


Running Repairs

by ValueTurtle



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValueTurtle/pseuds/ValueTurtle
Summary: After a vicious deathclaw attack Nick and Nora help patch each other up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Woah first work in Fallout 4 let's see how I go! Betaing was done by my enthusiastic husband.

 Nick knew why Nora had insisted on returning to the tiny cave at the far edge of the Glowing Sea. He was a great detective, after all, and he had witnessed enough from his travelling companion to realise that a promise she made was one she intended to keep – even if it required half a blister pack of Rad-X and a whole day spent flushing her system of the rads she picked up.

 

  Hell, she probably would have even gone through with the journey if she’d known about the deathclaw.

 

  They must have missed it on their previous trips in the area – with the murky haze of nuclear fallout and the choppy terrain, Nick and Nora had always needed to be careful. But a strong wind, the sort that pushed radstorms out towards the Commonwealth, had cleared away some of the fog and their progress had been faster, both of them wanting to get back to what passed for civilisation these days.

 

  Whether it was their footsteps, louder and incautious, or an offhand comment one of them had made that woke the beast, Nick wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one moment Nora was checking her Pip-Boy to track their position (she’d happily told him they were just over the border of Commonwealth territory), and the next she was dangling in the air like a ragdoll, at the mercy of an enormous deathclaw.

 

  He had his revolver out in a flash, crouching low to the ground for whatever cover he could get. It wasn’t necessary: the lizard bastard hadn’t seen him, more interested in the struggle Nora was putting up, her fists knocking away its attempts at impaling her. Nick checked his ammo, relieved to see he had a full clip. Not that it would be of much use – what were .45s to the armoured hide of a deathclaw?

 

  Holding the gun in both hands, he aimed for joint of the deathclaw’s shoulder and fired off at least six rounds. It roared in pain, rearing up to its full height. Nora screamed, and he watched as the claws that held her tightened instead of letting go; they bit down, skittering off the chest armour she wore and digging into her arm, hip and side. A moment later bright spots of blood appeared around each talon.

 

  The deathclaw spun around wildly, searching for whatever had hurt it: when it saw Nick, it let out a snort of fury and started after him. He scurried away quickly, stumbling over the churned earth. The world tipped backwards, his vision was filled with a cruelly weaponed paw; Nick raised a hand to protect himself and felt synthetic skin tear apart, a brief flare of pain burning across his previously intact palm. He squinted along the glow-sight of the revolver and got off two more shots to the beast’s midsection, hoping to make it pause or stagger, anything for some breathing room to get to his feet.

 

  “Valentine!” Nora suddenly called out, and he saw that the front of her shirt was soaked with blood. The deathclaw, not the smartest of creatures, returned its attention to her as she began to wriggle – no, she was working an arm behind her back. Nick managed to stand again and was considering whether to shoot the neck or the torso next when Nora brought her booted foot up to the deathclaw’s chin and shouted: “Catch!”

 

  Her shotgun tumbled out of her hands, falling between him and the monster. Nick scrambled to where it had landed, not caring how exposed he was; the moment he had the gun, he cocked it and began to shoot. Nora had never cared for the feel of automatic weapons, but the modifications she’d made to the shotgun gave it a rate of fire that would make a triggerman happy. Now, Nick advanced on the deathclaw and fired shot after shot into the meat of its body until he ran out of shells and the gun went _click_. The creature gave a final, broken howl and slumped to the ground, bringing Nora down with it.

 

  “Nora!” Nick cried, tossing aside the gun and running to her aid.

 

 The deathclaw had released her in death, and she lay just to the left of the corpse, an awkward, unnatural jumble of limbs. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale; his synthetic brain couldn’t help but calculate how much blood she’d lost and the trauma to her system. His throat swallowed against fear induced dryness, and he had a glimmer of dark amusement: the Institute had been thorough when they designed him, even down to the simulated panic.

 

  “Hey Valentine,” she managed to murmur. “Think that might be one for the books.”

 

  “You hang around a while longer and I’ll even type it up,” he replied, and got a smile out of her. Nick pulled open her rucksack and found the bag of medical supplies she stashed there – if he could keep her from bleeding out until they made it to the edge of the Glowing Sea she had a chance. His hand hovered over her shirt for a moment, and he said: “Mind if I take a look?”

 

  Nora laughed weakly. “God, you’re such a gentleman. Go ahead, patch me up, Doc.”

 

  Nick unclipped her chest and shoulder armour and then unbuttoned her shirt. The combat gear might have saved her life after all, he realised, as it had stopped the claws from piercing her heart or stomach. He used a stimpak on each of the three large incisions, watching in real-time as the flow of blood slowed, then stopped; he let out an unnecessary breath and continued his triage. He carefully slid the needle of an auto-regulating blood pack into a vein on her good arm and, with a strip of Nora’s ubiquitous duct tape, he secured the bag to her biceps.

 

  “You’d better give me some Med-X,” Nora said, her face looking pinched with pain. “S’gonna be a rough trip back.”

 

  Nick pulled out the syringe, but hesitated for a moment, his thumb resting on top of her wrist. He could feel her pulse, could feel how it beat stronger than even a few minutes previously. Such a fragile thing, and so easily influenced: one hit of Med-X could override the frantic instructions of her heart and lungs, could lull her body into unconsciousness so deep she never woke up.

 

  “I give you this, and you have to promise you won’t go anywhere.” He refused to meet her eyes. “You’ve become a bit invaluable round these parts, kid. Hate to see all your good work go to waste.”

 

  “Got a lot of unfinished business anyway,” she told him, and he could almost see the familiar teasing glint in her eye.

 

  “I’ll hold ya to it.” Nick squeezed her hand briefly, then gave her a dose of the heavy painkiller.

 

  It was the right thing to do: immediately her body relaxed and a dopy grin spread across her face, but her heartbeat remained steady and she even started to take deeper, more substantial breaths. Nick packed up her bag, reloaded the shotgun and slung it across his back, and then gathered her into his arms, ready to carry her to safety.


End file.
